Family Obligation
by DreamingToBePetra
Summary: what the crane really means


standard disclaimer

The cops were right on my tail. Running and running. It was sheer luck that I hadn't been nabbed already. But I was going to have to stop soon. They just couldn't see where I did it. Another block and I noticed I was behind Michael's favorite library. He said they had the best selection of construction manuals here, even if it was in a bad part of town.

I ducked into the building, and slunk to a corner to stop and catch my breath. Huffing and puffing is a sure way to make sure people remember you.

As I stood there though, I wasn't really thinking about what to do if the cops found me. At this point I was either safe or I was trapped. What I was thinking about was Michael. At first I thought we'd be okay by ourselves. The straight and narrow even if I had to break a few rules to keep him safe. But then I started to realize what it was going to cost. I was such an idiot to believe that everything would fall into place.

I heard the jingle of a security guard's keys, so I slipped into the men's room and perched up on a toilet tank. If you're going to hide it is important to go all the way.

It's funny. I always hated the whispers and the stares. Everyone knew my dad bailed on us, which isn't that unusual around here except that he did it while Mom was pregnant with Michael. But that wasn't what they whispered about. They always looked at me with pity. "Poor boy," they would say. "Such a shame, he doesn't have a chance." I still hate the whispers. I hate them because they're true. And I hate them because now they're whispering about Michael.

Realizing that I must have lost the cops I decided to spend some time in the library. Even if they didn't know where I'd gone, better not give the cops a chance to spot me again.

Michael was at home. I hoped he was sleeping, but the odds weren't good for that. I'd just started having to spend nights out and I knew it made him nervous. Knew that he had a hard time trusting that I would be back in the morning. I never took it as an insult. It was one of the big differences between us. Michael didn't know why people always left us, didn't really understand that there was a cause beyond people leaving and never coming back. I knew Dad left because he was a shit, knew Mom left because she didn't have a choice. Michael just knew that they left and didn't come back. And I didn't know how to make him believe that I would always come back.

I wandered for a bit until I realized someone was watching me, so I spun around into a dead end aisle. As a sign of my luck, it was the arts and crafts section. Feeling exhausted and wanting to laugh at my cursed existence, I slumped down and leaned against a shelf.

The first time I went looking to deal my stomach clenched into knots. I hated drugs, I hated dealers, but I needed money. Michael had grown out of all his clothes and a couple of jobs had fallen through that left me unemployed just long enough that every penny had to go to rent and utilities. So to feed and cloth my little brother, I did something that I hated. It got easier, and here I was only a couple of months later, getting really good at dodging the cops. I was also the only dealer in six blocks who never had to dump a stash. It hurt to think that this was actually something I was good at.

It took me a moment to realize that I was sitting half on the floor and half on a book. When I pulled the slim book out from under me I cracked a grin. Here was something I'd never be good at, but at least I didn't want to be. Paper folding was for chicks and homos. Still, I was bored and I figured I'd take a look.

Mike asked me the other day what I wanted to be when I grew up. At first I didn't know what to say. I had already grown up and I didn't know if I would ever be anything at all. I had wanted to build things. And when the weather was good and people were building I loved working construction. I always wanted a family, so that I could prove I wasn't my father and have someone to love me. Mike got impatient waiting for an answer and poked me. I glared at him and then I realized something. I was building a life for my brother. I wasn't going to leave him and I knew he loved me. "Just what I am Mike, I want to be just what I am."

Looking back I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad one that I turned first to the page detailing the crane. But I did. And I had an idea. It breaks my heart, sitting in this cell, knowing that my brother is here too. That my brother is in prison because of that stupid crane. That somehow I bound him to me strongly enough that he threw his life away for me. But it is also the most wonderful thing I'd ever done if it made him feel safe. That crane and everything it meant, that was what I built. A perfect life for my brother. And now, what that crane means. It means that I never left him, and he never left me. It means that my brother always knew I loved him. And it means that he still loves me.

I remember looking down at the complicated instructions. I remember thinking that even if running and hiding and selling dope was what I was good at, this was something I was good at too. And it was something that I wanted my brother to know. Family Obligation.

...


End file.
